The Absofruit Truth by Dave Traer, pina colada

The drone from the craft overhead subsides; I endeavour to keep my withering self from toppling onto the blue grass. My mutilated skull fights inescapable transformations. My dry throat has developed an unbearable craving for the contents of my favourite mug. The spectators are silenced and I receive the signal to begin. Nodding my appreciation for being allowed, while I am still able, to share my version of events, I face my bemused audience. They have heard too many stories such as mine. For them reminiscences fall like dead leaves that rot on the forest floor. However, it is commanded that, for the record, our memories must be shared. Wasting no time, I begin to speak:

         “As I recall, it began soon after daybreak. Trying to shake off the residue of a hangover, I forced my short, plump torso, through my café door and onto the city pavement. Ignoring the chill, I placed coffee, newspaper and book onto the solitary table and ran my fingers through my receding hairline. The sun was casting streaks of redness through wispy grey clouds.  I stood for a few seconds and welcomed the uncommon silence. Gone were the frantic rushing crowds of workers, doing their headless chicken impressions. Gone too, were the noisy, polluting queues of traffic.  Only occasional, distant vehicle noise disturbed the unusual tranquillity.  I dropped into one of my plastic chairs and unfolded the previous day’s broadsheet. This ritual was the highlight of my year. There were no customers, no distractions. Just me, my favourite beverage, plenty to read and blissful peace and quiet. I raised my mug and wished myself a happy Christmas.”

        The word triggers an emotive response among the listeners. I pause, allowing them to settle. Prods in my back compel me to continue:

        "As I perused the Yuletide headlines, a sudden rumble attacked my ears. I peered, over the newsprint, at a loaded sack barrow moving up the narrow road towards me. The man doing the pushing struggled, as the trolley’s metal wheels fought through the cobbles. His stocky boiler-suited frame moved past me. Long white curls draped his sallow face. He appeared focussed, resolute, totally oblivious to my presence. His load consisted of four enormous fruit boxes.

          “Season’s greetings,” I called.

          “The words struck the surrounding walls, but drew no visible reaction from the interloper. I watched as he continued along the empty street and disappeared into a side turning. I shrugged and stepped back into the café to replenish my empty mug. As I returned to the door, the telephone rang. I waited, for the briefest of moments, as the answerphone clicked in. One word was uttered; the unfamiliar voice had a strange, guttural, foreign tone.

     “Help.”

      “I stared at the device and, determined not to let anything else spoil the moment, shook my head as I stepped back into the stillness of the morning.

      “After around fifteen minutes. I refolded the paper, emptied the mug and skimmed through the blurb on the book’s back cover.

     “The sound began as a mere whisper, before becoming so loud that it echoed around the surrounding office buildings.

     “Help.”

      “Then I saw it rolling and spinning down the road. One lone fruit, its green, spikey crown, fought to slow its momentum. The cry resounded once more. I rushed towards the side turning.

      “The ground was littered with yellow fruit. The man was on his knees, frantically trying to retrieve his load. As I approached, I saw his tears. Like two parallel waterfalls, they dripped from his cheeks onto the cold, dusty cobbles. Cradled in his arms was one large pineapple.

      “I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. Please, please stop staring at me.”

       “I offered him my hand, but be looked right through it. I told myself to walk away and leave him to struggle unaided, but that would have been both uncharitable and unchristian. After all it was, ‘That time of year.’

       “Bending forward I recovered the two pineapples closest to me and placed them into one of the empty containers. The man gave no reaction to my act of kindness and continued to wail his pleas. It was apparent that his entreaties were directed, not to me but to the yellow fruit he was holding close to his chest. I continued with the task of running back and forth collecting the spilled produce. It was not until I had returned the final box onto the barrow that I returned my attention to the penitent man. He sniffed back the remorse and, with his head low, offered his precious pineapple up to me.  

      “I took it but as I stared into the fruit’s many eyes, it began to pulsate. Panicking, as its vibrations travelled through my outstretched limbs, I stepped back to the trolley and dropped it, in the top box, alongside its companions. The man, again ignoring my offer of help, struggled to his feet. Without thanks or acknowledgement, he grasped the barrow and continued on his way.    

       “And a very merry Christmas to you too,” I shouted after him, as he staggered off into another side street.

       “Pushing aside my aggravation, I ventured back down to my café. I went back  inside and shook my still tingling fingers, I stepped behind the counter and pondered. Decision made, I pushed aside my hankering for solid nourishment, lifted a bottle and glass from a cupboard and returned to my table.

    “As I sat and perused the amber liquid, I tried to comprehend what had just occurred.

     “Perhaps he was deaf, he was certainly neither dumb nor blind.  I allowed the warming flavours to work their magic and contemplated further. Then I asked myself the obvious question: Where on God’s earth had he come from? There was neither van or lorry in sight, also where the hell was he going? Nowhere was open for business. Nowhere. Save from myself and the office buildings’ entrenched skeleton crews, the city was empty. It was Christmas Day, for Christ’s sake.

       “What if he was Santa? I chuckled. Or maybe a tall elf? With hindsight, maybe I should have kept hold of that pineapple, I’d have been able to make the world’s first self-shaking cocktail. Just imagine the office types queuing for it and bopping along to work like the cast of a West End musical.’ I’d have to name it after myself, of course, ‘The Bopping Bob’ or something similar.

       “I emptied the glass, smiled myself back to reality and, submitting to my passion for science fiction, returned to the dog-eared paperback.

       “It had been a while since I’d first been introduced to its pages. I thought I remembered its opening, something about a day not feeling quite right.

        “I read the first two chapters and laughed at the thought of the city being overrun, by hordes of meandering pineapples.  I dropped the book onto the table: I really must stop reading that kind of stuff.

       “The rumbling sound returned; he was coming back. The man emerged from the side road and hobbled towards me. With his load delivered, to who knows where, he was progressing much faster than before. The barrow carried just one large fruit. As he drew level he slowed and turned towards my door. I closed my eyes in despair: Jesus, would I ever be rid of this intruder?

       “Merry Christmas, Sir. I don’t suppose you’re open.” Startled, I looked up at a young constable. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

       “No problem, Officer. A very Merry Christmas to you too. I must have been dozing. Had a bit of a heavy night. No, I’m not open, but take a seat anyway. What can I get you?”

       “That’s very kind of you, Sir. An Americano would be good and, if can you do me a freshly squeezed juice…?  Pineapple would be great.”

       “Orange or grapefruit, is all I have.”

       “He pointed to the gift which guarded the doorway.

       “I rubbed my eyes, “So I wasn’t dreaming.”

       “I’m sorry, Sir?”

       “Not for sale I’m afraid. Not until I can verify its source.”

       “With trepidation, I grasped its spikey leaves, strode into the café and deposited it on the counter.

       “Suddenly a crescendo of breaking glass and shouting resounded along the street.

       "I watched through the window as the policeman shouted into his radio and, truncheon in hand, charged away.

       “A loud banging drew my attention back to the bar. The fruit juddered violently on the wooden surface, lasers from its many eyes cast a multitude of coloured spots onto walls and ceiling. It was like a seventies disco without the music, just a horrible ear-piercing whine. I watched in amazement as its spikey head broke loose from its base and hovered above me. The last thing I remember was the smiling delivery man standing beside me.”

      I look at my entranced audience. They have been hanging on to my every word. Perhaps, my account has rekindled distant memories, of their own fateful day.  Even the few outwardly skeptical amongst them, now appear to believe. Their leaves twitch as they whisper their thoughts.

      The multi-eyed being behind me detects the changing atmosphere and chuckles, “And if you believe that, my young friends, you’ll believe almost anything.” Tears of laughter, flood from its yellow head onto the fertilized soil. 

        Rows of plantlets basking under the orange sky, join in the creature’s merriment.  My disfigured head shakes with despair, as the delivery man steps forward and manhandles my sprouting body onto his barrow. My craving for hot, bitter coffee passes into oblivion. The man’s white locks shroud his deadpan expression, as he wheels me to the edge of a cultivated field. With calloused hands, my helpless head is dropped into a freshly dug hole. A solitary police truncheon identifies the plant beside me. My leaves detect another transporter of victims approaching through gaseous clouds. More catalytic pods to help populate this dying world.

        The delivery man wipes damp pink earth from my spikey crown. In a soft reassuring voice, he whispers. “If you can still hear me, a word of advice. No, you’re not dreaming, but if you hold on to that belief, your sanity will be preserved for a little longer and your offspring will be far healthier.” 

Laughing, he trudges away.

          I choke, as wet, sweet soil fills my screaming throat.

About the author

 

Dave has spent many years writing short stories. He had decided that 2025 would be the year to dip his toe in the water and start to put some out there. This is the second time that he has submitted one to Cafe Lit 

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The Siren’s Ruse by Michael M. Pacheco, virgin pina colada

Some people can hold their breath underwater for a long time. Finn can stay under longer than anyone else. He discovered this ability when he left his mother’s womb.

Later in life, he learned his single mom was on an ocean cruise when an alarm sounded. The ship had struck an iceberg in the open ocean and was sinking fast. Voices screamed in terror when the panic set in. None of those voices, however, sounded familiar.

His mother was in her ninth month of pregnancy and he was ready to come out. The ship took on water quickly and everyone on board would soon perish, everyone that is, except Finn.

The ship slowly descended and Finn felt a sudden cooling of his surroundings. His mother’s body slipped into the icy waters. At first, he detected her shiver and overwhelming fear, but then, within minutes of feeling the coolness, a wave of calm washed over them. A bright light appeared above Finn’s head as his mother used her muscles to push him toward it. Feeling no resistance, he came out of her and felt a sudden change in the environment. He continued breathing in fluids, but rather than amniotic fluid, he inhaled cold seawater. His little heart thumped in his chest.

His mother’s calm voice said, “Inhale, exhale.”

The words came at him over and over. He didn’t hear actual spoken words, but he understood the message, and he obeyed. Taking in saltwater and exhaling it, relaxed him.

Just then, a big fish with sharp teeth came at him and he flinched with what must’ve been a natural reaction and raised his little hands in defense. But, instead of biting Finn, the fish chomped on a cord that attached him to his mother. His body quivered as the fish severed the tether. The reddish-pink water around the child swirled as the fish swam away.

He caught only a glimpse of his mother’s serene countenance before she descended into the ocean darkness.

“Forgive me!” she cried in some form of telepathic manner.

 Finn was saddened, certain he’d never see her again. He flapped his arms and kicked his legs, and the action propelled his body forward. The motion felt good and liberating. This movement wasn’t the same as moving inside the walls of his mother’s tummy. The sensation awakened a certain curiosity within him, so he started exploring the sea.

The cold seawater was a welcome embrace for him; he hadn’t felt so alive when he was in his mother’s womb. The heavy swell of the waves, the undulating rhythm of the ocean, and the salty taste on his lips were sensations he’d never experienced. He was in a world of his own, free from the constraints of his mother’s body, and he relished the feeling of being alive.

Finn explored his newfound aquatic realm, swaying with the ebbs and flows of the tide, and taking in the awe-inspiring sights. Schools of silvery fish swarmed around him, their scales glistening in the sunlight. Colorful coral reefs spread out beneath him, their intricate shapes and textures a vivid contrast to the waves above. He felt a rush of adrenaline, realizing he was the only human being in this surreal environment.

As he navigated the depths, he was met with a host of new experiences. He mingled with creatures of all shapes and sizes. Some he recognized from his mother’s tales about the ocean, and some he couldn’t identify. And yet, he felt a strange kinship with these creatures, who moved with him gracefully through the currents. He shivered as he passed by a giant octopus, its massive tentacles reaching out to him as if to offer a greeting. Finn marveled at the beauty of the jellyfish, their tentacles undulating in the water like a field of gentle, floating flowers.

But his underwater journey wasn’t filled merely with amazement and wonder; he also encountered moments of fear. A large shark startled him, its menacing silhouette moving through the water at a frightening speed. Finn jerked back when a giant squid emerged from the depths, its huge, glowing eyes watching him pass by.

The mystery of the ocean held a strange fascination for him, and he soon found himself drawn to its depths. He dove farther and farther down, into a world of shadows and intrigue. Here, he discovered a whole new set of creatures, from strange, alien-looking fish with luminescent scales to beds of giant clams that stretched as far as the eye could see. As he explored this alien landscape, he felt a strange calm, as if the ocean connected him to a greater power.

When Finn made his way back toward the surface, he felt a sudden pull from the depths. he resisted at first but eventually surrendered to the powerful force. The ocean current somehow brought him back to the surface, where a team of grown people pulled him out of the water. He couldn’t talk but they were astonished he survived the ship’s demise. They’d never seen anyone breathe underwater. They marveled at his courage and resilience, his ability to survive in such a hostile environment.

One of the rescuers, a woman, held him up by his ankles and spanked his bottom. He wanted to bite her the way the big fish had bitten his cord, but alas, he had no teeth, so he cried. Apparently, his crying was the desired effect because all the men gave her a round of applause. The air burned Finn’s throat and dried out his lungs as the rescuers wrapped him in a blanket and took him to safety. They’re the ones who named him Finn.

In the years that followed, Finn discovered he retained an extraordinary gift - the ability to swim and breathe underwater as effortlessly as any fish. Yet this unique talent set him apart from others, making it difficult for him to forge meaningful connections on land. Despite his longing for companionship, he remained a solitary figure, yearning for a sense of belonging and carrying a deep sense of loss for his mother.

Finned married the first girl who seemed to understand him and his love for the sea. Two weeks later, he joined the Marine Corps. But his offshore outings took him from her for longer and longer periods of time. When the shine had worn off their marriage, he cut the ties.

On a perfect spring morning with flat seas and clear blue skies, then-private Finn made a terrible mistake when he left his wife. He held her hands, a receding wave sweeping sand out from under his bare feet. “I joined the Navy ... I do love you, but the sea is my lady,” he’d said ignorantly. That was forty years ago, but he remembered the event and his deep regret as if it happened only yesterday.

Today, one-star retired general Finn relaxed in a beach chair near the old dock of Marina Vallarta, comparing the sea’s calm and the striking sky to the ones in his memory. On the water, the sun danced in diamonds. He was still a man of logic and reason, but he felt different these days. He’d spent his entire life serving in the Marines, making tough decisions and leading his troops with precision. But now life was slower, more serene.

Soon after he was promoted from full-bird colonel to his first star, he retired and realized he wasn’t the kind of person to sit around the house and spend endless hours surfing the net. Within two weeks, he hired a small fishing crew. Yesterday, he’d brought his men to this port to relax after a week at sea, harvesting shrimp and red snapper. Their haul had been abundant, but tiring. They were, after all, the real fishermen. He just enjoyed being El Jefe. His men had earned the time off and he needed a respite, now that he was in his late sixties.

He glanced toward the jetty where his boat bobbed and strained impatiently against its mooring. On the beach, he spotted a Mexican couple by the shoreline walking toward him. A double set of footprints in the damp sand trailed them back to the rocky foreshore. He caught a faint whiff of a pleasant fragrance, no doubt emanating from the señorita.

            Turning back to the lapping waves, he thought, that lucky guy should be me. But on this day, he would not rendezvous with any paramour. After his divorce, female companions were more like weekend flings than real relationships. Nothing lasted more than a couple of days and nights. Sometimes he missed the intimacy and quiet moments associated with being a couple. His adoptive parents weren’t alive anymore and he’d never remarried.

            Was it too late? Could he still find true love? At times he felt like the only man amongst his younger peers with a paralyzing fear; time was running out for him.

As he ruminated about his four decades in the Marines, a dark shadow passed over him as though a cloudburst was about to happen. He turned his head and saw the couple, hand in hand, strolling behind him. They smiled politely but said nothing.

Finn smiled back.

For a moment, the area around him went strangely quiet. It was as if he’d been transported to a different place. There was a soft splash, and a majestic woman rose from the water like a scuba diver rising to the surface, but she wore no such gear. The upper part of her shiny swimsuit sparkled as she treaded the calm water. Her smooth and ivory skin glistened as the moisture trickled off her hair and down her shoulders, over her prominent breasts.

Their eyes met. She gazed at him.

He stared back and felt immediate curiosity about the way her alluring eyes were now downcast and the corners of her mouth curled up.

General Finn was sure he was dreaming. With her long flowing hair and shimmering scales of her suit, the woman seemed too fantastical to be real.

With a slender gracefully extended arm, she waved at him. Then her soft and gentle voice broke the silence. “Come join me,” she said. “The water’s fine.”

His heartbeat quickened.

“I’m sure it is,” he said, “but I don’t swim much anymore.”

“But I’ve seen you out on your boat.”

“That’s right,” the general said. “I was on the boat, not in the water.”

Where had she seen him?

“We’ve only been here a coupla days. Where’d you see me?” he asked.

She spun her body around in the water like a child who enjoys dizzying herself. When she stopped, she swung her body in such a way that he caught a glimpse of a fishtail.

At that moment, Finn believed she was not human, but a living, breathing creature nonetheless.

She tilted her head. “I’ve seen you in lots of places, the Marietas Islands and over by Yelapa, other places too.”

General Finn’s interest was piqued. Why had this lady been at all those places and at the same time as him? Maybe he was being “pranked.” Some of his fellow retirees were quite capable of pulling well-planned stunts like this.

The woman in the water splashed teasingly toward the general. “Come on, You’re not too old to swim again.”

He chuckled, “Nah, I don’t have a fancy tail like you.” He hoped this would draw her out of her ruse or “being in character.”

It didn’t work.

“Most people don’t, but that’s what makes me special. Come on in,” she said waving him toward her.

The ambient air was now in the nineties and the humidity was high. He was still in the zone of silence. A dip in the water would be nice.

He rose, limbered up, then walked knee-deep into the water. The sea was warm, but still cooler than the tropical air. “You’re right,” he said, “It feels good.”

“Come closer,” she said, patting her chest above her heart. She extended her fingers as if to emphasize the drama of her gesture.

He waded in, closing the distance between them. As he neared her, he noticed her skin was flawless and the shiny scales were not a swimsuit but part of her skin.

He thought about placing his hand on hers to be assured she was real. “What’s your name?”

She gave him a demure smile. “Ariel.”

He laughed. “You mean like the Little Mermaid?”

She puffed out her chest. “Do I look little to you?”

He didn’t answer but caught himself staring at her smooth, tanned tummy and hoping for a glimpse of more of her skin. He decided he liked everything about this woman.

She reached out and took him by the hand.

A ticklish tingle ran through him. He liked the feeling and didn’t resist her lead.

“I want to show you something,” she said. “It has something to do with your special swimming skills.”

How did she know about that?

Ariel dipped her head into the water and her tail flipped into the air like a dolphin diving deep.

He held onto her hand. Behind him, the splash of her tail ended the eerie silence. Within seconds the water turned into a murky yet, enchanting bliss. The tropical warmth against his skin reminded him of his mother’s embrace. It was whole and complete as when he suckled on her breast as an infant.

And as if she had read his mind, Ariel somehow communicated to him. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

She must be telepathic. Can I trust her? he thought.

“Always,” she said.

They descended slowly until the dark abyss became a brightly lit space. He looked around, startled by the mythic beauty of the world around him, the rainbow-colored fish, the swaying kelp and starfish on the ocean floor.

As she glanced back at him, he saw an expression on her face reflecting his own feelings of longing and yearning of the truest kind.

“Semper fi, Jefe,” she said. She led him through a tunnel to a spacious chamber.

Finn was shocked when he saw his mother’s body entombed within a shimmering crystal. Overwhelmed with emotion and longing for closure, he listened as Ariel gave him a message from his mother.

“She wanted your forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

“For not saving you from drowning. She didn’t believe me when I told her you survived,” Mariel said. “So we preserved her and brought her here… for you.”

Finn stared at his mother. “Can she hear me?”

“Place your hand on the crystal and speak from your heart. She’ll hear you.”

Touched by this revelation, Finn finally began to understand the depth of his mother's love and the true meaning of family. He edged close to the crystal and placed his right hand on it. “I forgive you, Mother … I love you so much. I always have and I always will.”

As soon as he mouthed the words, the crystal glowed brightly, and then in an instant, it vanished.

Ariel swam to him and gave him a warm embrace.

Together with Ariel by his side and his mother's spirit guiding him from beyond, Finn was now able to navigate the depths of emotion and finally find peace within himself. He’d found his home.

Finn heard someone call his name, but it wasn’t Ariel.

On the beach, an EMT scanned the water. He looked at the Mexican couple. “I don’t see anybody. Are you sure he went down in this specific area?”

The man answered, “As sure as God is our witness.”

About the author 

  Michael M. Pacheco is a writer living in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona. He received his BA from Gonzaga University and earned his Juris Doctorate at Willamette University College of Law. 

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Sean Cast as Joseph

 

by Janet Howson

a larger and a Pina Colada

This is exhausting I have never felt so tired in the whole of my life. Sean told his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I can’t keep this up for much longer, he added. He peered at the bags under his eyes. He knew he would have to make a decision.

    He was, he had to admit to being, a two timer. He never meant it to happen but since the tinder date when Christina was late and Veronica thought he was her tinder date, he had been seeing them both. He had even made a weekly calendar that he had stuck on his kitchen memo pad. Monday - Murder Mystery rehearsal

Tuesday – Veronica

Wednesday – Murder Mystery rehearsal

Thursday – Christina

Friday- Veronica

Saturday – Christina

Sunday – shopping, cleaning, learning lines.

    This is going to kill me I will have to make a choice. With that he pulled away from the mirror, brushed his teeth checked his shirt was clean and went to find his coat. It was Saturday and so therefore a Christina night. He had arranged for them to go to The Cobblers Rest Pub and then on to see a film. He hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep in the cinema, the way he was feeling at the moment it was certainly a possibility. He had half an hour to walk to the pub. He should be able to do that easily.

     The sound of the doorbell gave Sean a start. Who would be calling round at seven o clock on a Saturday night. Unless it was an Amazon Prime delivery. He was expecting some books.

    He opened the door expecting a delivery man but instead there was Veronica, smiling and as bubbly as ever. “Hya, surprise, surprise! I have been doing a friend’s hair down the road and I thought I would make your evening by calling round and seeing if you fancied going to the pub for a drink? My treat.” She had already passed him and entered the flat. “Have you eaten? I’m starving. Do you fancy a curry later?”

    “Well I… the truth is Veronica I am already going to the pub with some old school mates. I really can’t let them down. So sorry. Perhaps we can do that on Tuesday when we’re meeting up anyway.” He could feel his heart beating against his ribs. It was one lie after the other.

    “Oh, come on, Sean, live a little. I am sure your mates won’t mind me tagging along. As it happens a client of mine mentioned she was going to The Cobblers Rest Pub, so I could always chat to her if the worst came to the worst.” She pecked Sean on the cheek.

    “I erm…” Sean was completely out of his depth, he just couldn’t think of a way out of it. Then an idea struck him. “Hold on for a couple of minutes I have just got to make a phone call.”

    He ran into his bedroom and punched in Christina’s number. No response. She must have her phone off. Sean remembered she was driving there. He was just going to have to brazen it out. Perhaps Christina wouldn’t turn up or Veronica would think better of hijacking his ‘night out with the lads.’

     “You coming, Sean?”

     “Yes, I’m ready.” He hoped his voice didn’t give away his nerves.

      “He shut his bedroom door and turned to see Veronica coming out of the kitchen

     “Just grabbing myself a quick drink from your secret squirrel store of wine in the fridge. Cheeky I know but I knew you wouldn’t mind.” She linked Sean’s arm and steered him towards the front door. “I think this is going to be a good night.” She grinned at Sean, who was silently saying to himself,  this was likely to be a really bad night. He felt completely out of control. It was as if he was being swept along by a strong tide, unable to turn or fight against it. How had he managed to get himself into such a predicament?

    It didn’t take them long to get to the pub. He wasn’t sure what they talked about because he was worrying so much about arriving with Veronica on his arm and Christina waiting for him. This will teach him, never ever to two time! Then of course he had lied about the lad’s night out. He could fake a text cancelling it, he would do that now. He stopped in the car park.

    “Hold on, Veronica, can I just look at this text message, it could be important.” He pretended to check his phone. “Oh, would you believe it? They have cancelled out. Something about overtime? Oh well, that solves that then. Why don’t we miss the pub and go to see a film instead?” Sean felt he had been given a life line. He would be able to text Christina with some excuse that he had some emergency to deal with and would have to give the pub a miss. It was not to be however.

    “No way. I really fancy a drink. I can’t miss out on my Pina Colada on a Saturday night. We can go to the cinema afterwards. I don’t even know if there is anything decent showing. Come on let’s see if we can get the window seat. I like that table. You can see everyone coming in.”

    Sean couldn’t think of a worse place to sit. He would be in Christine’s direct sight line. He shuddered at the thought of it. Would she throw a tantrum, slap him across the face, storm off or worse still, burst into tears.

    Half dragged in, Sean went to the bar and Veronica headed straight for the window seat. Sean glanced round nervously. No sign of Christine yet. She was always late. He looked at the time on his phone, ten minutes late already.

    “What can I do you for, mate?”

     Sean came back to earth, “Sorry, miles away. A lager and a Pina Colada. Oh, and a packet of salt and vinegar, please.” He had remembered Veronica had said she was starving.

    “I’m on it mate.” The barman was looking past Sean to where Veronica was sitting, “You not buying your other lady friend a drink?”

    “What!” Sean spun round to see, much to his horror, Veronica sitting in the window with Christina next to her, chatting away amicably. This was his worst nightmare. What could he do now? Robotically he ordered Christina her usual glass of white wine. The barman was obviously enjoying the situation. He had seen Sean with both Christina and Veronica so he knew he was two timing.

    “Is that all mate? Not expecting any more girlfriends?” He was on a roll now.

    Sean payed for the drinks accepting his fate and made his way back to the window seat where the two girls were waiting. He put the tray on the table.

    “Well, Sean. That must have been a bit of a shocker for your Tuesday and Friday date to turn up on a Saturday. Veronica has just been telling me about the calendar you keep on your fridge. I am down as your Thursday and Saturday date, squashed in amongst the drama rehearsals etc.” Christina looked at Sean accusatively, downing a gulp of white wine.

    “Christina is one of my clients. I was doing her hair this afternoon and I was doing the usual ‘are you doing anything exciting tonight?’ She then told me all about meeting her boyfriend, Sean and going to the Cobbler’s Rest Pub. Well there’s a coincidence, I said, my boyfriend is called Sean and we drink at The Cobbler’s Rest Pub.” Veronica contributed.

     Sean had frozen to the spot, holding his drink he didn’t know whether to sit down, stay standing or run for his life. “I er…”

    “So, we thought we would merge into a double date. Drink first, then a curry followed by a late film, all paid for by you? It’s the least you can do.” Christina held her empty glass up towards him. “Same again, wine and Pina Colada. Oh, and I’ll have a packet of cheese and onion this time round.”

    Sean struggled back to the bar to face the chuckling barman who was obviously enjoying every moment of it. This was going to cost him a fortune. He could make an excuse to go to the toilet and escape through the back door. However, they both knew where he lived and might follow him or track him down during the weekend. He wouldn’t be able to sleep worrying about it. He would go back with the drinks and apologise for his behaviour.

    Having filled up the tray again he returned determined to fall on their mercy. “Look girls, I know I have been a complete idiot. It is just that I really like both of you and I didn’t want to offend either of you. I will willingly treat you to a night out and I expect that will be my swan song as you will not want to set eyes on me ever again.” He downed his lager in one. He needed that.

    “Don’t drink too much. We thought you could go back for your car to drive us to that posh curry house that has just opened near the library. Then drive to the cinema. You owe us that much,” Veronica added.

    Sean withdrew his hand from reaching out to his second lager. “Fair enough. I’ll go back now and come back for you.”

    “Oh we’re not that daft,” Christina responded between sips of wine, “Give us five minutes and we’ll come with you. Knock that Pina Colada back, Veronica, we are in for a good night.

    True to their word both girls finished their drinks and crisps in record time. Applied a coat of lipstick and were ready to go within the five minutes. “Hurry up, Sean,” they chorused. Sean followed them avoiding the scrutiny of the barman who was still following the saga with great interest.

    Veronica and Christina strode on ahead arm in arm, chatting amiably. Sean kept a safe distance. There was no getting out of this. Serve him right.  He had certainly learnt his lesson.

     Once at the flat he headed for the car park but Veronica turned round. “Thought we’d have one for the road, Sean, from your secret squirrel store. We can book the restaurant as well. It is very popular and it is a Saturday night.”

    There was no arguing with them so Sean went up to his flat and duly poured them a glass of wine each and googled the Indian restaurant. He did this in the kitchen as the reception was better. They were fully booked. Typical he thought. What else could go belly up this evening?

    He heard a lot of laughing in the lounge as he returned to give them the bad news, “Sorry girls, fully booked. We could get a take-away from them?”

    The hilarity continued, to the point where they were crying with laughter. Sean couldn’t work it out. What was so amusing? After a while they both stopped, wiping their eyes with bis tissues.

    “Oh Sean. Your face when you saw us both together. Then all the back and forth to the bar and the restaurant booking and film. I have never seen anyone look so sorry for himself, have you Veronica?”

    “Just like a little puppy who had an accident on the expensive furniture. I wish I could have taken a photo of it on my phone, it would have gone viral.”

    “We are going to have to come clean, Sean. The conversation I had with Veronica whilst she was cutting my hair was not exactly as we described. I was telling her that I was meeting you to tell you I wanted to finish with you? I,ve met someone else and we have far more in common. Whereas Veronica loves the theatre and is far more your type. So, when we realised that you had been dating us both, we thought we’d teach you a lesson.”

    “We guessed you were too much of a coward to choose between us and too nice to risk hurting our feelings,” Veronica continued. “I was really hurt at first but when Christina said to give you a second chance once she was off the scene I thought, well, why not? As long as you are still up for it?”

    Sean looked from one girl to the other. He didn’t know whether to jump for joy or feel humiliated at being made a laughing stock, He chose the former. He knew it was the right decision. Christina was a sweet girl but they really had very little to talk about, whereas Veronica was so interested in his drama and had already offered to prompt at the Murder Mystery Evening. “Well, I must admit I was certainly fooled by your reaction. I deserved all I got. I am so sorry, girls. Should we get the take-away anyway as a final meal all together.”

    “Nice idea but I think I will take a rain check. I am meeting my new feller in about an hour, so I will love you and leave you both. Have a great evening.” She kissed Veronica and then Sean on the cheek. “No hard feelings, Sean?”

    “None whatsoever, I wish you good luck with your new man.”

    Christina left the flat leaving Sean and Veronica on their own. “You know what, I really don’t fancy getting a take-away. Do you fancy a special Sean Spicy home made vegetable curry? A speciality of the house. Served with madame’s choice of side dishes and of course a Pina Colada.”

    “I am impressed. You have the ingredients for all that and my favourite drink as well?”

    “Perhaps I always knew we would end up together.”

    “Then as a reward I will listen to your lines for the Murder Mystery Evening. I have got it in the diary. I am really looking forward to it. Did You say they were looking for new members?”

    Sean couldn’t help but think that it had been worth all the embarrassment of the evening just to hear those words. He had found his soul mate at last.

 About the Author

Janet Howson was born in Rochdale but moved to the South of England when she was seventeen. She loved writing and reading from an early age and wrote poetry and plays. She joined an amateur drama group when she was eighteen and her love of the theatre began. She trained to be a teacher and her two subjects were English and Drama. She then went on to teach for thirty-five years in Comprehensive schools in Redbridge, Havering and Essex. During this time, she wrote and directed plays for the pupils, ran drama clubs, worked with pupils from special schools, involving them in productions, worked with Chicken Shed after school and continued to be involved in amateur drama both as a performer and a director. Now she is retired, Janet has joined two writing groups and with the help and advice she has received from the other members, has started to write short stories and her first novel, ‘Charitable Thoughts’ has now been published. She intends to continue writing both novels and stories, adapting some of them into theatre scripts and radio plays.

Published Work

The Best of CafeLit 8 an anthology published by Chapletown Books 2019

Stories included: Marking Time & Induction Day.

Nativity an anthology published by Bridge House 2019

Story included: Solution.

Charitable Thoughts a novella published by Austin Macauley

Can be found on Amazon Books

It happened in Essex tall tales from the Basildon Writers’ Group

Can be found on Amazon books